


this modern love

by lairdofthelochs



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Because I have been spending so much time analyzing Armie, I need to get this off my chest, Introspection, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 01:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12948327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lairdofthelochs/pseuds/lairdofthelochs
Summary: By knowing him in those moments, cycling, watching documentaries and silly cartoons, eating seven gelatos from seven different gelaterias in one day -- you learnt to really know yourself.





	this modern love

 

> “You won’t understand what I mean now, but someday you will: the only trick of friendship, I think, is to find people who are better than you are—not smarter, not cooler, but kinder, and more generous, and more forgiving—and then to appreciate them for what they can teach you, and to try to listen to them when they tell you something about yourself, no matter how bad—or good—it might be, and to trust them, which is the hardest thing of all. But the best, as well.”  
>  ― [ **Hanya Yanagihara** ](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6571447.Hanya_Yanagihara) , **[A Little Life](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/42375710) **

* * *

 

You love him.

 

This realization didn’t come to you like a scene out of a movie, where the camera pans for a close-up of your surprised face.  Where the background music swells saccharinely sweet, to the point where your teeth begins to hurt. There is no angelic choir breaking out into song, no ray of light shining in the skies as if to herald An Important Revelation.

 

No – the reality was much more mundane than you’d like to admit. The reality was that you were listening to a random podcast about statistics, at 0300 hours on a red-eye flight across the Atlantic Ocean – and he was sleeping only three seats away. You growled in annoyance – how could he possibly sleep so soundly when you’ve been tossing and turning in your seat in the past hour? Liz was sleeping next to you, beautiful and serene as always, while the voices being fed through your earphones were humming facts about Standard Deviations and the history of the Poisson Curve.  All the things you’ve forgotten from high school.

 

Your mind naturally flitted to him, this gangly awkward youth who is so much wiser than his years, wiser than you yourself had been when you were his age. You remembered the story about his stats project that deserved more than a D+; and that consequently led to the thought that he _deserved more_ , full stop.

 

This angered you.

 

It angered you, because he deserved more than what this life could give, only he couldn’t see it yet. It angered you that you didn’t know how to make him see it.

 

And then, you realized that he deserved all the love and the adoration in the world – and then, and _then –_

 

Gosh.

 

There you go.

 

It hit you, and you knew for sure that you would be wide awake for the remainder of this flight.

 

You _love_ him.

 

You do.

 

The moment you landed, you confessed this in the first interview you gave to the press—and it felt like the most natural thing to say, like a burden had been lifted from your chest. It’s a line that you’ve repeated so many times to journalists since, after every screening and press junket if the opportunity arises. The more you say it the more you feel it; but you don’t really know if the true meaning of your words ever gets across to him. Because he’s too humble and self-deprecating that you wish you could pick him up and shake him; to scream at his face to express how you feel.

 

You liked him.

 

There was no doubt about the apprehension you had felt before embarking on this project. Before meeting him, you thought that you were the most self-deprecating prick you’ve ever been unfortunate to encounter in your life. Who could blame you? Being slammed and called out for having a bad luck in most of your films – you definitely didn’t want to carry this curse with you to Crema. Little did you know that this wouldn’t be the case, but you digress.

 

You liked him.

 

You’ve weighed his name on the tip of your tongue even before you flew out to Italy, even before you confirmed with Luca that you agreed to work on the project. It was strange – if a bit almost-pretentious and ethereal, like a single-serving friend you met on a European trip; with that accented ‘e’ that you had to ask Luca three times in order not to mispronounce his first name. You’ve heard Luca singing praises about this New Kid on the Block, so you put on your Best Charm Offensive on when you strutted into the room—all laissez-faire in your attitude, having little care for the fact that he was in the middle of a piano lesson.  And the way his head bobbed up and down as he pressed the ivory and ebony keys; pausing mid-note at the sound of your footsteps. The Bach tune still yet unpolished as compared to what would transpire on-screen a few weeks later, as he turned his head around to face you. And how his expression immediately brightened up at the sight of you— a fellow American; beaming like the summery Italian sun when you enthusiastically approached him with that jovial ‘ _Heyyyyyyyyy_!!!!’

 

You could see how he was itching to join you, to skip the piano lesson and show you around the place, hopping on bike rides in your short shorts. But you could also almost taste the guilt that was reflected on his face as he gazed forlornly back at the piano teacher, the stutter in his voice as he explained that he had to “finish this first”. You felt for him. You really did. And this wasn’t a superficial screen test; it was your very first impression of him as a human being, and not just as an actor.

 

And you knew that you liked him straight away.

 

So when did _like_ turn into _love_ ? What is a _friendship_ , and why does it need to be distinct from any other relationships, as if it was less special or less intimate? You’ve kissed him, you’ve touched him. You’ve known him more intimately than you knew your own best friend in those few months, sequestered in that quaint little Italian town. In doing so, you began to know more about yourself in three months compared to the last three decades of your life. You knew that you struggled with friendships when you were younger because kids could be cruel, and you wondered what it would have been like if you’d met him when you were younger. If you’d bumped into each other in the hallway of a typical American high school, would you have been friends?

 

The hypothetical ‘no’ answer is probably too much for you to bear.

 

And yet, you were thankful anyway for the painful experiences you’ve had growing up. Those experiences had informed you to become who you are today. And those experiences had led you to Liz, to Harper, to Ford.

 

To Luca.

 

To him.

 

Kissing him wasn’t just lust. It wasn’t as simple as imagining that he’s Liz, as simple as trying to reaffirm that you are the definition of a Straight White American Male.

 

No.

 

By knowing him in those moments, cycling, watching documentaries and silly cartoons, eating seven gelatos from seven different gelaterias in one day – you learnt to _really_ know yourself.

 

Oliver said that he knows himself, and for the longest time you thought that you knew yourself too. Until you were put on the spot with him, under Luca’s soul-reading eyes and you realized that you only knew what was conscious inside your brain. You’ve never seen a psychoanalyst – and now you know why you don’t want to. Because you strip away every layer to find yourself, and to let the other person see the deepest parts of you that you don’t think would exist.

 

You don’t know how he does it so readily, and you envy him for it.

 

You’re 6 foot 5 – a hefty giant, and yet there have been so many moments where you feel dwarfed; tiny, insignificant. But then you see Liz and Harper and Ford, and you realize that these fleeting miseries are unfounded. Still, you were afraid to let them see – for their sake, for your parents’ sake, for the Hammer family’s sake – you can’t let them see.

 

That’s why you love acting, you think – because you embody the characters that you would never be allowed to play in real life. The irony is that people still would only see what they want to see – and to force you to be what they think you should be. A good looking man with manufactured charm of Hollywood Glitz and Glamour. It didn’t work. And yet, and yet – when Luca offered you this part, you shrank back. Because you knew he would be able to see you for who you really are.

 

An impostor.

 

You didn’t want them to know, and most of all, you didn’t want them to let the world know how much of a fraud you were. And in doing this, you believed that your family and friends would know too. And Timmy, of all people— Timmy who kept saying how much he looked up to you, he would know that you’re just a talentless idiot.

 

Perhaps Timmy did find out, but being the generous, kind, lovely soul that he is – Timmy accepts you wholeheartedly anyway. As does Luca. With them, you were allowed to experience a boundariless world, and yet you’ve never felt more contained in your whole life.

 

You miss him.

 

And you’ll continually miss him, even when he’s just right by your side. Because after this, you’ll have to share him with the world. He’s no longer your secret to keep; no longer yours and yours alone. And you first realized that you’ll forever be missing him on the day you shot your last kiss; where he looked up at you in a smiley daze. An unspoken hope that this will never end. And with that train scene, that last goodbye – you felt what you felt and it was truthful and honest. Because yes, it would be the last time you would see him as he was on that day. Because he would leave, and he would move on to greater things. Who knew where your career might be by then? Lying in a ditch somewhere?

 

The sorrow consumed you, though you tried hard not to let it show. Bless him, he probably didn’t even realize how much this had affected you.

 

For now though, he’s still here. And now, Liz considers him part of your family. A selfish part of you wants him to be more than that. He’s not just a friend, a brother, a son. He’s something you’re unable to codify and label to put in a box.

 

He is what he is, and maybe that’s enough for you to know.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Your previous roles, on screen and in life, before you went to Crema – that was your body.

 

This, and for the rest of your days, after knowing him –

 

This is your soul.

 

\--

 

 

> “Why wasn’t friendship as good as a relationship? Why wasn’t it even better? It was two people who remained together, day after day, bound not by sex or physical attraction or money or children or property, but only by the shared agreement to keep going, the mutual dedication to a union that could never be codified.”
> 
> \-- Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life
> 
>  
> 
>  

.end

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from a song by Bloc Party of the same name. Greatly influenced by A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara, and partly inspired by labeledbones' fics.


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